


Among Stars In The Sky

by shipperman



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (Arianne/Viserys is there as well but it doesn't really matters to the plot), Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - World War I, F/M, Gen, Or as I like to call: The shameless Dowton Abbey Rip-Off AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipperman/pseuds/shipperman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Earl of Starfall dies during World War I, and it's up to Ashara to take over the state, while Arthur thrives on the battlefield and is awarded for his excellent work on a rescue mission, despite not thinking so himself. Then, the Daynes move to London for the Season, to Allyria's debut in society.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down a Dangerous Path (ASHARA, 1917)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mathildaimperatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildaimperatrix/gifts).



> First: **Feliz cumpleaños, Mariana**
> 
> A note on location: It's set in England, and although the regions don't exist in this setting, their castles (such as Starfall) continue to be the seat of their Houses. And the historical chronology it's a bit blurred, for fictional purposes; don't look too much into that.  
> In canon timeline it would start in the beginning of AGOT, Robert’s Rebellion never happened, but Ned still married Catelyn. If there is a conspiracy in King’s Landing they don’t care about and it’s not relevant to the plot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashara Dayne is left alone behind in Starfall as the World War breaks. She has to care for her younger sister and nephew, as well the property. In the course of the war, she receives the tragic news of Allem's death and has to delay even more some old plans.

_My dear brother,_

_I wish I had better news to tell, but in times of war, those are difficult to come by._

It was impossible for her to convey all of the sadness of her soul into words that would make sense to her brother, when he was so far away, probably stuck between a snoring soldier and a cold wall of mud. Yet it was her duty to be the one to deliver the terrible news.

 _I have received news,_ the words came out pretty in her cursive handwriting, but going on was like accepting that it was all really happening, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

It had been two years since he left. Over two years since he waved her goodbye as the car drove on the mudded road, since he last hugged her and whispered that it would all be alright and in no time he would be back home. _Lies_ she sees it now. A war that moved the entire world could not be solved in _a little time,_ but back then she had been naïve to believe him, that it would all, indeed be fine. However, she was the one keeping Starfall, on her own, because they were still away.

It had been a little while longer since Allem. Just before Arthur, in his pretty uniform, with the medals shining on his suit, and hundreds of boys from the village, following him. His last words still clung to her ears, repeating itself, like an echo. _Please, take care of my boy._

She had been doing her best, with the doubts and questionings like a parent for the first time. Little Edric was smarter at every passing day, and Allem would be proud. A boy of seven, but with remarkable wit and smiles. Every visitor at Starfall left loving the little Dayne, with his big words and curious manners.

They hadn’t received guests since the beginning of the war. No one had the willingness anymore. If before they craved for wine, a good laugh and company, now they craved for peace, a loaf of bread and their loved ones. Many loved ones who would not be coming home. However, the memory was clear as if it was the day before. Edric sitting down at the library, with the adults, against the nanny’s and the butler’s wishes, completely lost in the talk, but eyes following the voices, as if he understood every word. Ashara had caught herself looking at him more than once. _Your father will be so proud,_ she thought repeatedly. Now, a fatherless kid.

_I have received news of Allem, and it breaks my heart to be the one to tell you._

Death and other horrors that were only in the darkest corners of her imagination surrounded Arthur, but it was _Allem_ this time. For the first time, the war really hit her.

They played together as children, in the green fields of Starfall, running around and laughing. Every now and then, their father took all of them to the beach, where they played together and build a castle in the sand. Until their parents decided that it was time for Ashara to be a Lady. Then, she was inside and learnt the piano and read poetry, while they ran outside and learned how to play with swords. The happiest moment of her day was when Allem came inside, his hands smelling of grass, and hugged her, tightly, getting dirt on her dress. Immediately, the nanny tried to scold him, but Allem had that type of smile that cured any anger, and transformed it into smiles. Ashara would laugh with delight, as he would run away faster than the nanny. _Edric had the same smile,_ she thinks, bitterly, looking down at the letter.

_Allem has been shot, two weeks past. I just learned that, and my first instinct was to go to you. The office door was open, and there was no one inside._

Starfall seemed so empty now. Their servants, so many in number before, now reduced to bare minimal. Their guests, abundant before, now only came with sadness of their own. The parties, so famous and lively, were now a faded memory, overshadowed by the war. If before, Allem took care of everything, now it fell upon her, to be the head of the house, role she had been playing for a while now, and getting more comfortable in it.

“You look sad,” Allyria observed, sitting on the couch near, looking at her, studying her silence. Ashara hadn’t heard her sister coming in. Allyria had softness in her feet, walking silently from one room to the other, only noticed if she wished.

She wets her lips, and the words form into her mouth, and yet, only silence. _I have to tell her. He is her brother as my own,_ she tries to speak, but her body refuse to follow her orders. “I have news,” she said, and the words felt like blades in her throat.

She raised her eyes, and saw Allyria’s skinny shoulders tense, her jaw clenched, and her eyes wide open, as if preparing for the worst. “Is it Arthur…?” the hesitation in her voice breaking the words. “…or Allem?” she completed, and closed her eyes. In times of war, there is not much that can fit the description of “bad news”.

It hurt just as much to see Allyria’s pain as to feel her own. She had to face it, because soon enough, she could be heir from Starfall. With guilty, she waved those thoughts away. “Allem” the word came out in a rushed whisper, as if saying fast enough could make the pain end faster. Allyria broke into sobbing, and Ashara moved to the couch. She sat down and threw her arms around her sister. “I am so sorry” she whispered, “I hate to tell you, but I could never hide you from the truth,” she said, gently stroking her head.

She cannot tell how long they spent in that position: Allyria crying, resting against her sister’s shoulder, inside a hug. At some point, Ashara started to hum a lullaby, which ended up becoming another and other and other.

Their moment was only broken when the butler came to give her a message. She looked at the unfinished letter resting upon the desk.

“My lady, we’ve heard of Lord Allem’s tragic…” he hesitates, as if he was unsure of what would come next.

“Death” she cuts him, “You can say the word, Mr. Blackmont. Not saying won’t make it any less real” her tone was raw, but not unkind.

“Right. I am sorry, my lady.” He bowed his head, in a respectable manner. “We heard of Lord Allem’s tragic death, and Mrs. Fowler and I wanted to hear your plans for the troubling time that will come.” During that time, she had relied on the butler and the housekeeper, who had been there since she was young and never failed to help her,

For a while, Ashara had forgotten that Allem’s death was a public statement. That she was supposed to be in mourning for months to come, and let everyone _know_ that she was in pain. To hold a funeral when his body came home, to stay at the church’s door, accepting everyone’s condolences, when all she wanted was to be inside, with her family. He wouldn’t be back to put Starfall’s finances in order, to pat her in the back and say she did a good job while he was away. _Starfall is Arthur’s,_ and the bitter thought made her heart ache. _But mine, until he comes home,_ _because I know he will._ She had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed a quiet moment to mourn her loss privately. She had to be strong and take care of things. _Like Allem did before._  

“Right. I forgot.” she said, looking around, at the open windows. “We should make the arrangements” she stood up and closed the long curtains, making the room darker, like night had already fallen. “I would be glad if both of you could help me in this hour of need” she asked, facing the butler.

“Of course, my lady. We shall help you with anything my lady needs,” he promised, and Ashara knew the words to be truth.

“Please, ask Wylla to set me up a black dress,” she said, running the hands through her hair, trying to remember everything that must follow a death in the family. She looked at her sister in the couch, eyes red and trembling hands. “And one for Allyria too” she added. “And please, if you could, send Edric in a little early today. He must know what is happening” he nodded and left. She had been in charge for so long that the orders came voluntarily to her mouth, as if this was the role she was supposed to play all along. “I am sorry, my dear” she walked to Allyria and held both of her hands, “there is a difficult time to come, and we must face it with bravery.” _We don’t have Arthur around, and won’t have Allem anymore._ She kissed her sister in the forehead. _It is just the two of us, for now._

Ashara sat back at the desk, to finish the letter, while Allyria remained on the couch, stoic.

_Since father’s death Allem took care of our home, and made Starfall shine. But you are our eldest brother, Arthur, and rule Starfall is your birthright. He did it before, I am doing it now. You cannot be here for his rites; you cannot be here to take your place. Nevertheless, until you come home, and I have faith you will, we must do what we can._

The women were far from the men. Not even seven years ago, she had been stuck inside the house while Allem and Arthur conducted a funeral to Roslyn. She argued that Roslyn was just her sister-in-law as she was Arthur’s, and she had the same rights, Queen Nymeria had stated so, from the very beginning, so many years ago. But Arthur begged, _For Allem’s sake,_ and she dropped the argument. It seemed that She had stayed at home, nursing little Edric with Allyria, while the men went out to do big and important things. Just like it all had been before.

_I know it is not the usual setting, for a woman to take such a place, but times of need are set to different rules._

In tradition, women of the grieving family weren’t supposed to be a part of the funeral. Instead, they stayed locked up at home, for months on end.

But there were no man now, and Ashara wouldn’t let her brother die unmourned, because of a simple tradition. She would gladly break hundreds of them to any of her own. The Daynes had antique ones. Once, after the death of a beloved Lord of Starfall, his son gave a speech at his father’s funeral, to cheer up the people into a new era. Then picked up flowers from his own garden to give to his mother, too ill to be a part of the funeral. Ashara couldn’t understand how over two hundred years later, they had still the same traditions: the speech and the flowers. The only difference is that a woman was the one giving the speech and giving the flowers. The sad part is that she didn’t plan to gift them to anyone. (She would never put Allyria in that position).

Besides that, for the first week, it was expected for the new Lord of Starfall to lay flowers on the grave, everyday a different set. It was silly, she could see, but it was how it had been done for centuries. And Arthur wasn’t that to keep it going for another few decades.

_As I write to you, I see Allyria, and she is heartbroken. And it hurts me more than everything to know that I am absolutely powerless._

“I have to write a note,” she said, aloud, remembering, another topic from the endless list of traditions. “You wish to help me?” she offered, to get her sister’s attention, showing her the empty paper, and throwing Arthur’s unfinished letter under it.

“Yes, of course” Allyria stood up, weak and slow, “We must say all nice things about him” she hints of a smile, that quickly dies and she frowns again. “In his memory” she adds, solemnly. She is too mature for a girl her age, and now, will be even worse. Forced to grow old, before her time. Before she could even enjoy the silliness of teenage years, she falls into mourning and an empty house, with no joy or happiness; not as the one Ashara knew growing up.

_I want to help our sister, Arthur. I want to say to her that is not as terrible as it sounds like; but how can I do so, when I myself am drowning in my own grief? How am I supposed to help her, when I cannot even help myself?_

They sat, side by side, working together, writing and crossing words. Most of the time, however, was spent in reminiscing of Allem, and sharing warm memories of him. Ashara told Allyria how Allem was the one who introduced her to Elia Martell when they were little kids, and how he would laugh whenever he saw them together, saying that it wouldn’t take long for Elia to be _just like our Ashara._ Allyria told her first memory of her older brother. Her tiny little hands holding to the leg of his pants while they walked around a crowd of people, and she couldn’t understand _why are you all on my yard?_ They laughed together, shy and small giggles, because it would disrespectful to do otherwise. They scribbled through several pieces of paper, until both of them were completely happy with the note, written in both of their hands. Every time Allyria smiled, Ashara was sure that maybe, after all, they would have a chance to be fine.

_Those are dangerous and terrible times, Arthur, and I dread to live them. Even more, without you. I am alone to take care of Allyria and Edric. And I will fulfill my part._

By the time night fell, Allyria had stopped crying, and both of them were dressed in the traditional black of mourning. During dinner, neither of them seemed to be too excited to talk, the silence making the room seem even larger. Ashara had insisted that Edric dined with them, _Please take care of my boy,_ and just the three of them, round that big table. Sadness crept up on her.

_We’ll be strong, my dear brother, and we will be in full force when you get home again._

_I hope it is not long from now._

_All my love,_

_Ashara._

She finished the letter, by candlelight, because she didn’t want to turn any lights on, after dinner, alone. She stayed sitting on the library for another half an hour, just staring at the letter, as if waiting for a monster to come out of it, or, even better, summoning her brother with her words and come home to comfort her. When it became clear that neither of those things would happen, she folded and sealed the letter, with the purple wax of House Dayne. For the first time in that day, a tear rolled down her cheeks.

By the time she was ready to bed, Wylla came to help her to undress. The envelope never left her hands, too afraid of giving it out, too afraid of telling the truth. She wrote all the news she meant to, and didn’t want to add anything else. “Wylla, I want you to go to the village tomorrow and post this letter” she offered the envelope, “It’s for Arthur,” she said, as if she owned an explanation.

 

* * *

“Good morning, my darling” she greeted Allyria as she entered the dining room, where a modest table was set with breakfast. Her voice came out slower and deeper than the usual light and sweet tone. Her sister looked up at her, briefly, silently, and in her eyes Ashara felt kind of a companionship, like that at some point during the night she realized that they would have to stick together to make it through. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, sitting by her side.

“A little, yes” she agreed, nodding. Both of them sitting at the same side of the table, opposed the big windows, looking out at the fields of Starfall. The land went on, for several kilometers, ahead until they couldn’t see it anymore. _After that hill, comes the ocean,_ their father used to say, _and where the ocean starts, our land ends._ When she was little, it seemed endless. The curtains were supposed to be closed, she was completely aware of that, but she couldn’t bring herself to be in the dark. Not when so much terrible had been happening, and not when there were very little things that seemed beautiful to her eyes.

“I’ll be here with you,” she promised, offering out a hand for Allyria. Her pale hands, so fragile. It was easy to forget that her sister was so young, when she had been behaving like a grown woman. In her youth, Ashara had been much less mature, and she couldn’t be prouder of her little sister. “I want you to take Edric out today. Take him to the village, to buy a toy, anything to get him out of this house”

For a boy of seven, he dealt well with the information that his father wouldn’t be returning home. She put him on her lap, looked him closely in the eyes, and told him the story of how angry men were trying to invade their country, so his father had been out there, fighting these bad men, protecting them. Then she said that although he was a hero, he wasn’t invincible and something terrible had happened to him. At this point, he started crying, and she wondered if he wasn’t in fact too young to be told all of that. She said that he wasn’t coming back home, because he would still be protecting them, but now, from the sky. And he would be watching over them at all times, so nothing could ever hurt them. What moved her was the innocence of children, and their pure thoughts: _But he will not sleep?_ She smiled at her nephew.

“I wish I could join you, but I have work to do,” she apologized, and it was completely sincere. She had spent as much time as she could with them, but the duties of running Starfall quickly became the most important thing in her schedule. She saw them between a meeting and a visit to a tenant, or right before dinner, and while someone came to talk to her. Not having time to be around them was the worst part of her job.

It took her three entire months to get things working. The books were confusing and the numbers didn’t made sense; the tenants all looked the same and the maps looked like a copy of each other, printed repeatedly. After a while, she started to learn things: Mr. Paterson would be offended if she asked about his cow, because of an old story with his mother, but Mr. Trey would be glad and enter a long speech about milk. She learned how to control the money that got in, and how to pay the debts and still having a safety fund. Slowly, she became the Unofficial Lady of Starfall, the one people could go and ask for help, and she would do everything possible to do so.

The people trusted her, and they said that it was the hardest part. She was kind, but fair, and treated her people with respect; so they respected her too. In half a year, she gained the respect that many Lords didn’t get in decades, she made profit out of debt, she made friends where only were tenants before.

She never wanted to be the Lady of Starfall. Not even as a kid, she, for a second, questioned her older brother’s right. Starfall was his, and she would soon marry a rich lord, and would live away in a big castle of her own. They taught her that, and said that as long as she kept that in mind, she would be a happy lady.

But she saw the London Season; she saw the theatres with people elegantly dressed, the operas competing to be the most emotional, the fancy restaurants, and the new cars driving around the city, the long and beautiful dresses, always in the latest fashion. She craved for the life of the city. She was eighteen then, and still, every year, she moved to London for the summer, and felt like the life in the pulsating heart of England was the life designed for her.

Right before the war, she was setting to buy a little house, in London, with its green door and brass handle. She already had chosen one, but didn’t had the courage to tell her brothers about it, not until she was certain that this was what she planned on doing. Then, by the time she already had a housekeeper and a cook, the war came. She didn’t knew, nobody did, how long it would last and how much it would affect them. She put her plans on hold for a while. Then Allem left. Then Arthur. Soon she was the one taking care of Starfall, stuck in the country, until one of them came back, so she could run back to the place where she belonged.

Some days she even forgot about her little house in London, and was okay with living the rest of her life in the country, taking care of the mansion. Then the image of Arthur coming home, bruised and battered, with a cut on his lip and a black eye, to reclaim his rightful place haunted her every night.

“I am not doing this out of selfishness,” she whispered to herself, hugging her knees in bed. “I am doing this for my brother” she would repeat that for the rest of the night, until she fell asleep again. In the first hours of the morning, the guilty was overwhelming, and she would think, several times, of quitting it all and moving to London already, to live her life on her own, without interfering in anyone’s rights.

Then she would see Allyria and Edric, and knew she could never leave them behind. Yet, there she was now, sending them both off, while she had to take care of business. _It’s for his health,_ she assured herself, because Edric was a lively child, and he needed the open air to be completely free.

“Mr. Blackmont, would you please call for Mrs. Fowler?” she asked, standing up, “Ask her to meet me in the library,” she added, before leaving the room.

She sat at the desk, looking out at so many deals, now signed in her hand, and a growing pile of letters, she refused to read her mail at breakfast table. She opened, one by one, and most of them told the horrors of the war. She had to begin to write her own letters. She started to list people she would have to tell of Allem’s death. _Doran, Prince Rhaegar, King Aerys, Lord Mace, Cousin Gerold, the Hightowers, the Tarlys._

The sound of the door opening interrupted her list. The housekeeper stood still, looking at her, waiting.

“Mrs. Fowler,” she called, inviting the woman to get closer to her table, “the note for the papers” she announced, offering a folded piece of paper “Allyria and I wrote it yesterday.” She explained. “We couldn’t let a stranger write it,” she added, with a little hesitation. 

“It will be delivered, my lady” The older woman folded the paper one more and put inside her pocket, and Ashara was sure that by the next morning, the tragic death of the Earl of Starfall would be printed in everyone’s papers, bittering their coffees.

“And the funeral” she started, the voice cracking, “I want as least suffering as possible” she looked down at the rug for a second, “In the minute he lands in England, I want the preparations to start, so we let him to rest in peace.” She finished, holding out her tears. _I will not cry._ “We must invite the Martells, out of politeness, of course, because no one likes to be invited to a funeral.” She imagined Elia Martell coming out of the train and running into her arms, like when they were children playing together, “And Cousin Gerold” it had been a while since they saw each other. She wondered if he still dazzled the ladies every place he went. It wouldn’t be a surprise if it was still that. “The Hightowers, perhaps.” They had been the first generation to keep the peace between their houses, even though they were so different in thinking and so close in land.

There would be a new grave in the church’s little graveyard, where Daynes had been buried for several decades now. She decided that it would be the grave she would leave flowers, of every color of the garden, for a week or two or three or more if necessary. She would be the one with the white roses bouquet, and she would be the one making all the honors. She decided it just then, looking at Mrs. Fowler puzzled face.

The whispers on the funeral day would be quite clear to hear. _Going down on a dangerous path, that one,_ people would say. It didn’t bother her, especially now, after that long time when she had been on her own. The only thing she cared now was the safety of her home, and the remaining of her family. It was her duty to protect Starfall. It was under her protection to care for that endless piece of land that had been in her family for so long.

“Will there be anything else, my lady?”

“No, thank you,” she replied, turning back to her endless pile of letters to be written.

They all took the same shape, but it didn’t mean it got any easier. The words poured out on the paper, in her firm and steady calligraphy, but it was difficult to repeat the same words all those times. _Allem Dayne was killed in combat; he has been shot; died in combat; fallen in battle,_ all those different phrasings, and the same message. By the time she made it to the seventh letter, it came clear that it was actually happening. The repetition made her understand that, finally. Allem wasn’t coming back.

* * *

With the rising sun came the sound of the car driving up the road to Starfall, barely audible from the mansion. From her window, she saw the dust floating around the wheels, as the servants downstairs made an uproar. Starfall didn’t had any surprise guests ever since the beginning of the war, so something must have happened. The bags in the back of the car, numerous and in different colors and shapes, as if collected from several different stores. That was the first clue to who was inside that car, which was moving slowly towards the house, carefully turning on the sinuous road uphill. She was expecting no guests, not yet. The letters had been posted four days before, and it was too early to any of them to be coming, especially considering that the funeral had not been given a certain date yet.

Running down the stairs, in her robes, her hair falling on her back, and the eyes still red from the sleep, she made her way to the front door, where Mr. Blackmont stood straight, trying not to look so curious to see who was coming.

“Are you expecting anyone, my lady?” he asked, while the car parked on the front steps. The driver came out of it, and ran all the other way to open the door.

It was all was much less of a surprise than she intended, because in all of those years of friendship she was always the one with the big entrances. Elia Martell walked out of the car, an orange scarf wrapped around her neck, and a coat, perhaps too big for that time of year in that part of the country. As soon as she smiled, Ashara’s heart melt.

Their embrace was as if they hadn’t seen each other for years, which was mostly true. Arms tangled and pressed together, and the familiar warmth of each other, just like the cold nights when they shared beds. Just the image of familiar eyes, and an embrace she felt safe on was enough to make her feel better. Elia always felt like a sister to her. Felt like things were starting to get better again, just by being around someone she loved.

“Oh my dear” Elia whispered, pulling her closer, her face buried in Ashara’s neck, “I came as soon as I heard” and Ashara knew this to be true. The train ride from Sunspear to Starfall was long and tedious, but the quickest way to journey.

“Why didn’t you announced you would come?” Ashara smiled, of all possible things, this was what Elia got out of a her, a smile; “I would have sent for you at the train station” she said, caressing her face, as if to make sure that it was a real moment and it not all part of a dream. “I would have gone there myself”

Elia smiled, so gently, warm, with such kindness in her eyes that was enough to calm Ashara’s heart and to assure that, for a while, nothing bad would happen. Elia had that effect on people; “You have so much over your head already,” she held her hand, firmly, “I could not bear to bring you any more troubles”.

They walked inside; arms in a tight grip, not letting each other move an inch away. She was so happy that Elia had come this far just to keep her company. Ashara was glad to see that she was still true to their childhood promises of not letting anything or anyone between them.

Sitting on the drawing room, dark with the curtains closed, the light of the candles turning them into yellow-ish figures, talking with whispers, as if they were hiding a secret. “I can only imagine” Elia said, shaking her head gently, “If it was Doran” she started, and then hesitated for a moment, “…I don’t know what I even would do” she finished. “Is in times like this that I thank God for his legs,” she said, rather darkly. Doran’s permanent gout condition was enough to keep him home at war. He could barely move inside from his house without excruciating pain, which was, after all, a blessing, keeping him safe from the horrors of the war. Ashara hated that thought.

Allem and Arthur had been in perfect health before. She wasn’t sure if Arthur would _come home_ still in perfect health. _If he does at all, which will be a gift of its own,_ she imagined him coming home, leaning on a cane, face bruised and bandages on his arm. It was a terrible sight, but one she craved anyhow.

The words came out through a thin and small smile, while she held Elia’s hand. “You don’t know” She nodded, in silence, as the images of the first week without her brothers came back to her mind, and the confusion and the hundreds of books not making any sense to her inexperienced eyes. “You would find forces from places you do not even know it existed.”

“You are very brave, my friend,” Elia assured her, smiling again. In that moment, the thing that Ashara needed most was kindness and warmth, and gladly, Elia was the one who could give it to her. “And you have been carrying a great burden, by yourself. I am here to help you,” she promised.

Her words were not in vain. During the following weeks, Elia had been nothing but the Ashara’s right arm. She helped her to compose the rest of the letters; she was with her when the tenants visited her and brought baked goods, all of them with innocence and compassion in their eyes. She was there when Ashara received the dreadful telegram, the one that said that the ship carrying Allem’s body had made it to England, and would be coming to Starfall soon. (She cried that night, because she couldn’t imagine the pain of watching the pale and lifeless corpse of her beloved brother, lying before her eyes. Elia was there to cheer her up, and by the time morning came, they ate breakfast in bed, with orange juice and cookies, like when they were little girls).

On the second week of her staying, Elia got the first letter from Doran.

“You have to hear this” she came, laughing, to the library. “I promise you, this is the best thing you heard,” she giggled, in that unaffected way of someone who is completely unreachable by current events. “ _As of Oberyn,_ ” she read, sitting down, “ _we hear some troubling news_ ” by this point Ashara’s heart dropped, because she imagines something terrible had happened “ _Not two weeks ago, I received a letter from a friend that says he has been missing ever since a bomb explosion near his sector. The officers are indeed worried, but I shouldn’t be. (I too am aware I must reevaluate the quality of my friendships.). Two days ago, I got a letter from Greece. As it happens, our dearest Oberyn ran away from the action with a nurse, who he calls Ellaria Sand, and they are on holidays at Crete, and he was asking me if I could send him more money”_ Elia giggles again.

“Of course he would” Ashara laughed too. She had known Oberyn for her whole life, and the man never cared for rules; so when he had the chance, he would flee. “I am truly happy to hear that he found love,” she said, smiling. “This is indeed such good news” she completed, smiling and shaking her head, imagining Oberyn and that nurse on a hotel front to the beach. It wasn’t that hard to picture.

* * *

The morning of the funeral was, by far, the hardest one.

She woke up before the sun, but refused to get up. She stayed in bed until it was time to get ready, until there was no minute to spare. Dressing herself was a quiet moment for her to think about it. As she put on her black dress, she thought of Edric, getting dressed in the same color, even though he barely could understand it. On the other hand, Allyria knew this all too well, and was suffering the same pain.

Elia had been a good company for her too. Although there was no mention of it, Ashara knew that Allyria trusted Elia and they had talked in secret. (After that, she saw Allyria different, more mature and lighter, as if a weight had been carried off). Once again, Ashara was in debt with her friend, and she knew their lives wouldn’t be long enough for her to repay, no matter how hard she tried.

There was no sound in the whole mansion, no one daring to talk, to break that aura of respect. Allem had lived there his whole life, and most of the staff had known him since he was a little boy. All of them loved him.

The car drove off Starfall, Ashara in the backseat, with Edric on her side, while Allyria rode with Elia on the other car. She held his little hand, and used all of her strength to stop the tears; she couldn’t do it in front of him. He was too young to understand grief, but he knew sadness. He looked up at her, and without saying anything, hugged her, murmuring that it would all be okay. _If only he knew…_

The priest talked. The friends talked. Everyone shot dirty looks at her direction. She didn’t care. It was her right to be there, people liking it or not. Out of all of her father’s children, she was the only one left in Starfall, the one carrying the property on her back. It was a great burden, that she had been reluctant to carry at first, but now, proud of it.

Ashara Dayne had been born and raised to be a quiet maiden, polite and submissive, quick to think and to laugh at other people’s clever remarks, because she wouldn’t be free to do her own. But instead, she grew up strong and caring, beautiful and tough, kind but fair. She managed Starfall and the lands, she took care of her younger sister and nephew and it was enough of success for her. Enough for her to ignore that judgmental eyes and whispers.

_Wherever you are now, Allem, I hope you know we pray for your soul and your salvation._

By the time she stood up, at the end, it almost felt like relief. That it was all going to be over, that her brother’s body would lay in peace, side by side with his wife’s, relieved that life would move on again, forwards, instead of stuck in this bubble of sadness that formed around her since she first received that telegram.

For the first time in a long while, she felt peace at her heart.

* * *

They left home as soon as the sun rose over them, so they would have enough time. Mrs. Fowler had packed a basket with food, and Allyria made sure to carry a book and Edric’s new wooden car. Elia had been invited, of course, but she had to leave back to Sunspear, where she assured Doran was going mad without her. He did send his regards in a letter, apologizing that he could not be there, but his heart was with the Daynes in this terrible time.

The car drove through the curves of the road. The wind in her hair, while the kids laughed on the backseat. If she looked through the rearview mirror, she could see Mr. Blackmont following them, with the nanny by his side. She insisted in driving the car herself, with a time to be with the children.

When she was a child, their father let Arthur and Allem run in the front, on their horses, but she, as a proper lady, had to go with them in the carriage, behind. They always made it there first, so by the time she got there, Allem and Arthur were already half-dressed and soaking wet. Now, it was a thirty-minute drive, although back then it seemed like a three days journey that she couldn’t stay still, constantly blabbing about how excited she was.

“Are we there yet?” Edric asked, sticking his head outside, closing his eyes.

“We are close now” she assured, smelling the salt in the air.

Allyria was the first one to get out of the car, loosening her hair. She smiled, and Ashara felt her heart warmer. She knew, in that moment, that it had been worth it. She had broken every protocol, every social norm, every lady regulation imaginable in history. She, in mourning, had dragged her younger and naïve sister, and her orphaned nephew to the beach, less than three days later than the funeral. It was awful, she knew. But the smile on Allyria’s face, it made everything seem okay. At that right second, Ashara knew that for those two kids she would break every single law ever written. She loved them as her own children. They looked up at her, and she needed them. She needed Edric’s optimism, Allyria’s wit, and most of all, their youthful light. _In darkest times, the only way to live, is to cling to those who you love the most._

Ashara stepped out of the car, as Edric jumped over the closed door and ran in the front of them. “Are you alright, my dear?” she stood by Allyria’s side, who didn’t turn to look, her eyes still fixed on the ocean ahead.

“I will be,” she said, in a tone of hope.

“Don’t be rushed,” She advised, throwing her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I won’t leave you,” she promised.

“I know”

Edric ran back to them, grabbing Allyria’s hand and pulling her with him. The nanny came a second later, “Please, let them” she said, before the Nanny could shush them. “They have so very little reasons to be happy now, we must let them enjoy,” she added, looking at Edric running around, with a wooden car, and Allyria chasing him. She watched the nanny choose a spot for them, on the empty beach, with the food basket and Allyria heading towards them.

She looked around, and watched as Edric ran around the sand, laughing like it was the only important thing in the world, _Please, take care of my boy_ , and Allyria running _from_ him, like the child she had the right to be, and thought of something she should have added in that letter to her brother.

_We wait for the day you return. But until them, we will try our best to be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently edited to cover up a _major_ mistake on heirs (you can still see the stain on my name in the comments section of chapter 2, _thank you, Mariana_ )  
> For this, consider: Arthur the eldest, then Allem, then Ashara and finally Allyria.


	2. To The Honorable Soldier (ARTHUR, 1919)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Dayne is to receive a medal for his work in rescuing a group of prisoners, including Lieutenant Eddard Stark and his men. Despite the positive outcome and the physical healing, there are still things left to be dealt with, and some that Arthur would prefer to ignore.

He stood, straight, eyes wide open, while the national anthem played loudly from the band. The people on the crowd looked at them as if they were heroes. He knew they were much closer to the monsters.

Eddard Stark to his right, face clean shaved, looking like a young prince, hair perfectly combed and grey eyes looking sadder than they ever did before. Arthur had never lead him in battle, but had enough time to see his best and worst. It was still difficult to understand that the war hero in his well-cut three-piece suit was the same man he found trapped in a cage among dirty and shit, the man who cried at night, but wiped away his tears before anyone could see it. It was clear, that partners in arms are closer than brothers. (However, you don’t expect a brother you die in front of your eyes). Seeing Eddard there, alive and well was as much as a relief as it was a punch in the gut.

The only other survivor was Howland Reed, standing proudly, scowling, clearly unhappy with it all. If it was the aftermath of the rescue or the crowd cheers, there was no way to be sure. People couldn’t believe, even though no one dare to say it, that a man so small, so skinny, so inoffensive looking, had been involved in such tragic event.

They were ten, very briefly. Now, only three.

Out of those, three, with their guns and maps, ambushed, took control of the enemy’s trench and managed to leave the battlefield alive. When it came to the final countdown, they were a statistical miracle.

King Aerys was to their left, saying, repeatedly, how proud he was of the soldiers their country sent to battle, and these brave and insightful men were the reason that they had won the war. The speech was long and confusing, disconnected, skipping from one topic to the next for no apparent reason, and then returning to the first again. He hadn’t been the same since the kidnapping, it was clear for anyone who wanted to see.

Although he was happy to be home, Arthur didn’t quite agree with the _won._ He heard someone say once that soldiers never leave the battlefield in one piece. He didn’t understand it. Not until he came back and still dreamt of the cold nights in the trenches, the rotten smell suffocating him, the never-ending hunger consuming all his thoughts. The strongest image pressed into his mind was the blood on the muddy battlefield. He didn’t think it would be ever possible to erase that.

His eyes wandered to the crowd. Ashara with Allyria and Edric, one in each side, watching him, focused. They were the only remaining family he had. No wife, no children, no parents. Just the three of them. They were there to support him, and say how proud they were that Arthur was a war hero. It wasn’t fair to tell that he never considered himself a hero. Much less now.

Prince Rhaegar stood up, and Jon Connington followed him, carrying the medals in a velvet pillow. The prince smiled as he strapped the shiny medal in Arthur’s suit. “Thank you for your service” he murmured, and he actually meant that. Prince Rhaegar had a way of saying cliché things in a way that sounded meaningful and true. He did the same to Eddard and Howland, and there was it. The three of them, responsible for the death of innumerable people, being awarded and recognized as exemplar soldiers. He wanted to laugh in the face of the irony.

 

He longed to be back at Starfall. The sparse rooms and the taste of salt in the air, even though the sea was far from the house. The familiar windows and the doors, corridors he knew all too well, plus the servants, who were there ever since he could remember. It was a relief to step foot on the stone pathway going up the grass and know every stop of the way.

There was a party there, of course. Ashara was excellent at organizing parties, and now she was searching frantically for any reason to give one. Allyria’s birthday, Edric learned how to read, Arthur returned home, Arthur is getting a medal, Arthur _just got_ his medal; everything was reason to celebrate. He couldn’t blame her. She had been alone for so long, and now she wanted to enjoy, compensating the time she worried over him and Allem.

She made sure to invite all the county, as well family friends from a 500 km radius. He liked how invested in all she was, because it gave her something to do, instead of worrying over Starfall. Worrying if Arthur was there to claim his rightful title, and to strip her of all of the hard work she put into the property since he went to the war. Although she never said it, it wasn’t hard to guess that it was constantly on her mind.

However, the party seemed much bigger in planning. First, because they didn’t have money enough to throw on a huge party, even with Ashara’s management of the estate, the whole country was broke post-war. Second, most people were still grieving, and weren’t exactly the ideal guests for a party. Still, she managed to get more than a hundred people under their roof, and thanks to Allyria’s insistence, a gramophone played a jazz in the background.

It seemed hard to believe that only four weeks before, he was leaving in a ship to go back home, bruised and bleeding, crying with joy and relief. Only then, he came to the realization of the damaged he caused. Now, in the fancy and meticulously decorated mansion, it seemed that it had been ages ago. Months since he tasted clean water the first time after the battlefield, years since he felt the struggling panic of being followed and killed every single waking second; centuries since he had left home to go to war.

Fashionably late, came Elia Martell. She and Ashara had been inseparable as children, playing and whispering, reading and writing poetry together in their room, until late hours of night. Arthur always appreciated when she came to visit, because it was when his sister seemed the happiest. Even now, as they were older, their connection seemed to be untouched by age and distance. They remained as close friends as they were before.

“Our own war hero in the family” Elia opened her arms, to hug him. The Martells didn’t care of what was expected of them to do or how to act. “It’s good to have you back, dear” she smiled, as he reluctantly hugged her. She seemed even more beautiful, if it was possible. People considered Ashara to be the most beautiful woman in all England, with her pale face and violet eyes. However, whenever he looked at Elia Martell, he wondered how the whole kingdom could be so blind.

“I do hope you are still the same Arthur as before” he hadn’t even seen Oberyn before hearing the voice, in that tone and accent, drowned in arrogance, in a way that only that man could pull it off. “If you still are, ten of those medals still wouldn’t do you justice.” He offered a hand. Arthur was also doubting he was the same as before.

(And he would be sure, that same night, when he closed his eyes, and they came back to haunt him, the whispers growing louder until they were yells of pain, mixed with bombs exploding. He never told anyone that).

He smiled, nodding, modestly. “It’s very kind of you to say” and even know he was never aware of it, Arthur never took credit for his greatness, even in extreme cases. He only accepted the medal because his sisters made a huge deal out of it.

“Doran send his regards,” Elia starts, and her face turns into a pitiful expression “But he could not come. His health is in even poorer state than before the war”.

Oberyn and Elia had that way to mix in any sort of crowd. From a pub in Ireland to a ball at the royal court. They never stood quietly or ashamed. They made friends anywhere, with anyone willing to listen to a word or two. They smiled and talked, dazzling anyone around them.

He saw Eddard Stark standing by the wall, with a glass in his hand, looking confused and mildly left out.

“Are you feeling lost, my friend?” he asked him, coming closer, while both of them watched as Oberyn and Ellaria made their way into the crowd, and every pair of eyes turned around to look at them.

“It’s very different from Winterfell,” he said, simply. He had heard all about the snow palace, the cold stones, so many times that the images were clear in his head. He also knew that Eddard had a wife and a kids, and he probably missed home way too much. Spending his time in Starfall, gaining a pointless medal was just more time away from home for him.

“Not so used to the warmth of the south, are you?” he joked, and was greeted by a violent blush and unintelligible stuttering of an apology, followed by a quick excuse and a fast exit. Eddard was very shy and private, and never found himself in crowds, always standing by the corners, watching quietly as the people danced and laughed around him.  It was something that Arthur, so unused to see it, grew to admire.

On the other hand, Howland Reed was all charm and sympathy. Spinning ladies on his arms, and graciously dancing, even though he was shorter than all of them. He didn’t seem to mind it. Arthur admired him for it.

Out of everyone, Allyria seemed to be the one that missed him the most. Since he came home, she never stopped looking at him with big bright eyes, as if he was a remarkable sight. Half of the time, she was sitting near him, leaning against his arms or chest. She had slept a handful of times doing so. Every time he was more than glad to carry her to the bed.

He saw her sitting in the couch, legs crossed, while she listened closely to Mr. Dondarrion’s tale. He made sure to sit just by her side.

“I am so glad you are back home” she whispered and smiled at him, trying to not disrupt Mr. Dondarrion. When he left, Allyria was no more than a little child, in a purple gown and hair tied in matching braids. Now, she was a grown woman, as tall as Ashara, and just as beautiful. From the short time since he came back, he got to see that she was kinder than any of them, and more mature, much more than she was supposed to be. “We missed you,” she said, for what seemed to be the hundredth time in that week. Anyhow, he never got tired of hearing it.

“I too am glad to be back” and he meant every syllable of it.

 

“I need to speak with you,” she whispered, in a discreet way. She managed to interrupted him and apologize to the people he was talking to.

“If you excuse me” he nodded politely, and Ashara pulled his arm to the office.

The office was inside the library, with a big window, covered in a red and heavy curtain, with a big chandelier that was too bright during the nights. (Arthur always wanted to get that thing replaced, so maybe now it was the time). She stood in front of him, anxiously fidgeting with her gloves, hesitating, and he knew instantly that whatever she was to tell him, it was important.

“I have delayed my plans for years until now,” she started, fingers moving fast in the dark fabric, and eyes never meeting his. Her hands straightening the dress, softening rumples that were not there. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He looked at her, expectantly, excited. Ashara had always been full of surprised, and in most of the times, it had been pleasing to him. If not, just the idea of her being happy was enough for him to be too.

“I decided to move to London.” She said, quickly, as if it was the way to get on with it. Quick, so it would hurt less.

“You what?”

“I have a little house in the city, and I am hiring the staff.” She said, with a little smile, proud of herself. “I was waiting for you to come back to take Starfall again, and then I would go” she exhaled, tired, “And the time has come.” She smiled. “And I know this may sound wrong, but I consider it to be a farewell party too. It is only fair to tell you” she explained, and then fell in silence, waiting for his reaction.

“You what?” he was sure that he had heard it wrong, because that wasn’t possible. “You cannot do that,” his tone sounded demanding, “You can’t _leave_ … _”_

“I have it all ready,” she whispered, rushing, “I was just waiting for you to come back”

“Can we talk about this?” he asked, trying to sound reasonable. “Can we discuss this later, when it is just you and I?” he asked, holding her hand, “Please, Ashara. Don’t make any decisions yet. I just came back, and I don’t want to lose my family all over again”

“You’re not losing me” she smiled, and the tears filled her eyes, but she bravely fought against them “I am just moving out. I’ll be a train ride away”

“Please, don’t make up your mind” he asked, whispering, desperate. “Can we talk later? Please”

The idea that she would move to London and leave Starfall was heartbreaking. They had lived together since they were kids, and he could not imagine a life where Ashara wasn’t in the room next door to his. He couldn’t imagine living in that enormous mansion without hearing her laugh through the rooms, or the way she sat at the breakfast table, distracted, looking away at the window.

Before she could leave, he called out her name. “We need our family around. Now more than ever.”  Her silence made him uneasy. He wanted her to turn back, say that he was right, and promise that she would never leave them or Starfall, and that it would all be all right. She didn’t. Still, he waited, sitting on the armchair, staring at the door. (It took a long time for him to be convinced that she _wouldn’t_ come back).

In a moment, she was gone, and Arthur was alone in his office, sitting like a fool, still listening to her words, dreading the idea that they might come true. He only woke up when Edric ran up to him.

* * *

“I would like to thank you all for coming” he started, raising his glass, while everyone else fell silent “And it is such a great honor to receive this medal, for a service I would never reject” it was only partially lying, but the shiny medal on his chest gave him the courage to keep going. “In the battlefield, we are forced to suffer casualties from sides we least expect” he remembered the thousands of brothers in arms he had seen falling behind him, one by one, bullets missing him by inches, and finding his comrades instead. “And in this darkest hour we must be together with those we love” he looked at his family. They never were numerous, but used to be more than just three. “For that I am glad to have all of you here with me.” He raised his glass and gave a charming smile.

Everyone smiled at him too, and for a while, it felt as if it was just like before the war. When they threw parties like that constantly, just to have their friends around. However, it was weird knowing that some people he missed wouldn’t be coming, not even at next time. As simple as that, his fantasy crumbled, and the war became, once again, a present object in his life. And a part of him.

He walked down to see Elia Martell, with a glass in hand, smiling in the most adorable way, while Oberyn told a complicated tale. Lord Yronwood, however, seemed much more interested in staring at her, in that lascivious ways, typical of men with bad ideas in their minds. That though was enough to annoy him enough to go up to them and interrupt the conversation.

“Lady Elia” he stopped by her side, and she looked at him, mid-laugh, looking stunningly surprised. Too late, he realized that he _hadn’t_ planned anything to say to her, and interrupting a conversation to say that he was jealous of Lord Yronwood wasn’t an option. “Would you give me the honor of a dance?” he asked, out of the blur, with a sudden inspiration, and hoping she wouldn’t catch up on his nerves. (Which he doubted)

“I would love to” she extended a hand to him. “But I hardly doubt we can dance to this song” her lips twisted and her eyebrows raised, as she concentrated on the song playing, to make sure that she was right.

“I can arrange that” he moved to the gramophone and hoped he still remembered how to operate it. Allyria had taught him how, and he felt stupid for having a little girl teaching him anything. Soon, there was a quick waltz playing. He exasperated, relieved, that he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. He walked up back to her, smiling, confidently now. “Is it better?”

She nodded and giggled, pulling him into the center of the room. Her hand on his would be enough to make him smile like a fool for the rest of the week, but he had to prove himself stronger than that. It was a tough job, because his hand was around her waist, and that was much more than he ever dared to dream. He looked down at her, staring at her beautiful eyes, as they twirled around the room, in the rhythm of the music. The whole room around them, full of people and servants, food and drinks, seemed to disappear, and the only thing that mattered to him was Elia on his arms. He became aware of their proximity, her hand resting on his, the closeness of their faces, her warm breath on his neck. It was all too much to handle.

When the song ended, it was like a spell being broken. There was the start of a round of applause that failed to grow, dying seconds later. He felt his ears very warm as he held her hand and kissed it. He looked up to find Elia looking at him, and the expression in her eyes was hard to read, but he could swear that there was some kindness in them.

“You make a very good dancer” Oberyn pat him on the back, offering a glass “I can almost believe you are a one of us now” he laughed, and everyone around followed. When they were children, Arthur was the odd one out. Oberyn and Elia, moving with grace, spinning around on the living room, and then swapping, so Ashara could have a chance too. But he could barely put one foot in front of the other without tripping, much less dance with a partner. Now, Elia seemed content with the partner she got, which made him feel better about himself.

Ashara came back to him, and guessing that she was the one who tried the round of applause wasn’t necessarily hard. “I am very surprised at you, brother. Never thought I would see Arthur Dayne _willingly_ dancing”. Neither did he, but with Elia…

He looked around the room, seeing several familiar faces. Many bruised ones, and nobody seemed comfortable enough. It was hard to enjoy a party, when there was constant bomb threats everywhere and they had lost so much. He saw Gerold Dayne, their cousin, with his chest covered in medals, meaning that he had too been to war. (Arthur decided that, as a rule, that should be a reason to pity, but he wouldn’t dare to say it aloud). He saw Lord Yronwood, leaning on a cane, talking to Lord Allyrion, but both much more interested in looking around than to keep the conversation flowing.

Then for the first time in that afternoon, his eyes found hers. The widow of Gerold Hightower was there, in a black dress, with red eyes. He imagined how many widows he made with that clever plan. _It wasn’t murder; it was war, he_ kept saying to himself. But that wasn’t enough to clear the image of the fallen off limbs spread across the muddy ground. _War kills people._ It wasn’t his fault. It didn’t diminish the pain of the widow, who would have to bury her husband’s body, if she was that lucky to find his corpse in one piece, rather than broken limbs spread around. It didn’t mattered anything that he could say. And it was all his fault.

He hesitated, but decided that going to her was the decent thing to do.

“I am so very sorry for your loss, my lady” he apologized to her, at a safe distance, afraid of getting too close. “Lord Hightower fought valiantly by our side” his words, although being absolute true, were useless to her.

“Thank you” her voice was dry, as if she had not been using it for a while. “It’s very kind of you to say,” she added, after the awkward silence rose between them.

“I am very glad you came,” he added, with the smile of a host, but didn’t said anything else.

Captain Hightower had fought with them until the very end. He was the leader of the operation, and, was always ready to listen to the soldiers. Even if they disagreed. He had never doubted their duty. Not once. Not even when it came to its bitter end. He couldn’t wait for that terrible war to end, and by that point, he was ready to do anything to just end with it. (And he did).  The blood was all on his hands. _Men kill people_ he concluded, and it hurt his heart.

If the ghosts of what happened haunt Eddard and Howland, he could never know. They seemed to be perfectly comfortable in their party suits, dancing and dazzling the crowd as the evening moved on. It was hard for him to believe that they could just erase such a terrible sight of their minds. There was Eddard sitting in a corner with Ashara, the easy smile growing on her lips, while his face blushed and looked incredibly uncomfortable, until she friendly patted him on the arm. And Howland drinking and listening to the wild tales by the young Beric Dondarrion. It seemed impossible that they were the same men as before. (He wasn’t the same either, except his change had been for the worse, and he couldn’t know about theirs yet.)

 

Sleeping had been a nightmare to him. Even though he had a comfortable bed, and covers, and a crackling fire, he was unused to all of that. He spent over a year sleeping in a dark, stink and cold hole on the ground. The nights in the trenches were painful and stark, and truly, the most violent test of any soldier’s good will. Every night, he whispered to himself, that if he survived that one, the war would end on the next, and he would come back home. He said that same mantra for months, and nothing happened, his colleagues died, new ones came to replace them, but nothing changed.

That same night, he was up until everyone was already in bed. He sat over the sheets, watching as the fireplace crept, and the gin on his cup filled the air with its smell. On his first night, he missed alcohol so much that he drunk himself onto a stupor. The same happened the next night, and the next. It took a while for him to realize he could only fall asleep like this.

He hadn’t told anyone about that. Or about anything else.

The truth was that Arthur was in pain. His arms had healed, and the doctors agreed the concussion wouldn’t bring any trouble. The bruises all over his body were slowly going away. He couldn’t make the same thing happen in his mind.

Their crew was small, barely thirty soldiers led by him. They had been moved from all over the battlefield, and put together as some kind of _special orders battalion_ on the South of France. There was just one goal: to retrieve the prisoners. Lieutenant Eddard Stark and his crew, including Sargent Martyn Cassel and a handful of privates. They were seven, the only ones left from an entire battalion, only left alive because of Stark’s aristocratic blood.

General Hightower came a few days later, and took the leadership, making sure to be fair with everyone, but incisive on their new task.

The Intelligence gave them where and when to attack. Still, organizing that kind of operation was demanding, and they had no weaponry to win a battle. Quiet Soldier Whent proved to be a genius, proposing a strategic plan of attack that would put them into and out of the German’s trenches in less than fifteen minutes. It had been the best idea so far.

Gerold Hightower was, by far, the sanest one. He had seen horrors, but he also he seen life. He was the oldest in their crew, and he enchanted all of the new guys with the histories of the adventures he lived. If anything, he didn’t seem bitter like the rest of them. He didn’t seem rushing or home sick.

Arthur despised the battlefield even before the war. After he had the chance to see it for himself, he hated it with all of his guts.

He only needed to take General Hightower once through the place to make his mind change. _Look at them,_ he whispered as they crossed the trenches and watched injured soldiers bleeding in the mud, _some of them are here for more than a year. When the reassignment came, they thought they would be going home. Instead, they came here. In even poorer condition than before._ He took the General to their supplies, and showed the empty spaces where food and water should be stored, considering they were too far away from the main line of distribution. _We should have guns and ammunition to hold the germans away, but we don’t have enough to shoot our own heads._

On that same night, General Hightower wrote with the detailed plan they would use in three days.

On the day of the attack, they left before dawn, and walked nine kilometers, walking around the field and the trenches, making sure that no one could see them. The mud on their clothes and faces was enough of a disguised, but they made sure to crouch and hide at any sign of sound.

They had split in four groups, and each of them had their specific tasks, and no space for any mistake. The war would end for many of them in that same day. Gerold Hightower led one group, with Arthur and Whent, and they were the first one to attack the trench. They were also the only one to have survivors.

When the attack happened, Arthur couldn’t exactly say. The memories from that day were foggy and overly violent, in a way that it made him doubt the veracity of it. Still, some highlights are clear in his head: Blood squirting down Howland’s arm. The sound of gunshot as he crouches on the wet wood of the floor. The smell of mud as he breaks the chains that strap Eddard to a bed. Ethan Glover still alive, and in even poorer condition. Carrying Cassel over his shoulders. Leaving Ryswell behind, with his pale face covered in blood. The stinging on his knee and watching the floor coming closer to his face.

He never saw the trench on fire, or Hightower fighting hand in hand with a German officer, or even the fire consuming his right half.

He woke up on a train to the hospital, with Hightower agonizing by one side and Eddard in shock on the other.

On the total, they managed to save all of the prisoners, killed over a dozen of germans on direct combat, set fire to their trenches and stole great part of their supplies. That, of course, wasn’t part of the plan and was a last minute decision before the fire consumed everything. Normally, it would be punished harshly, but they had been carrying both Eddard and Lord Willam Dustin, greatly injured, but alive. No officer could hold anything against them.

They moved to a hospital in France.

Gerold Hightower, however, didn’t made it. As soon as he got to the hospital, the nurses rushed to his side, but there was nothing else to be done. Three days later, Arthur saw them covering his lifeless body with a white sheet. Theo Wull, the youngest among them, never left the battlefield, caught by enemy fire. Ethan Glover never made it to the hospital, dying on the train, while muttering about his wife back at home. Lord Dustin struggled, but an infection took over his body in a way that not even the nurses could look at him. Cassel was injured and his leg was in bad shape. As soon Eddard could walk, he made his way to Cassel and for three days sat by his bed, while the smell of infected wounds filled the tent. He died before the sunrise of the fourth day, while Eddard slept by his side. Howland Reed had a broken arm and deep cuts on his face, but other than that, seemed to be fine. No one in the hospital even knew what the sound of his voice was.

They found Whent’s body on his own room, the first day out of the hospital. A bullet to his own head. (Arthur could swear that had been a tear streaming down the closed eye, but never mentioned).

During the whole travel back, he was the one caring for Eddard and Howland, making sure that they wouldn’t do anything stupid. It was tiring enough and it didn’t left any time to think about his own problems. It was an efficient escaping method.

Now, in his own warm and comfortable bed, there was no way or place to run. He had to live with the ghosts of those he saw die, and accept his fate as a monster, and live the best he could with his burden. Although he was sure that, he would never know true happiness again, because of those memories haunting him, clogging up his mind.

He took another shot of the gin, emptying the glass, and laid on the bed. The light of the fireplace was weak, but let him see the ceiling, where he stared until he fell asleep, for less than two hours, before the sun rose again.

* * *

Eddard and Howland had to leave, to start their journey up north. They would catch the train after the breakfast, and Arthur offered to drive them there. Of course, Allyria and Edric jumped to the opportunity of going along, and Ashara decided to go as well. While they all sat at the breakfast table, Arthur looked at his friends. They had spent the better part of three months in the hospital, in beds side by side; through those situations, they became friends. The thought left a void inside his chest. He had grown used to their company, and it would be hard to be away from them.

The ride to the train station was quick. Allyria and Edric, on the backseat, laughed, playing a complex game that he didn’t dared to try to understand. Starfall could be horrible for children, even though he loved his days as a child running through those pathways. Edric was a little boy, with no one to play. Allyria was almost a lady. They probably felt like they were imprisoned in the mansion. The fresh air was a gift to them.

They had to go in two cars: Arthur, driving, Howland by his side, and Ashara and Eddard in the backseat, Edric, Allyria and the nanny in the other car.

The station was almost empty, just a few ladies with cases bigger than themselves, and a pair of running kids in ragged clothing. The smoke filled the platform, and the anxiety was in the air, such places always do.

“I guess this is goodbye,” he started, turning to Howland, smiling at him. “My friend, feel free to return any time you need” he offered a hand, and then was pulled into a hug.

“Do expect me” Howland opened a big smile, “I will return as soon as possible.” And Arthur knew it would be true. “But I expect your visit too. Know that the doors of Greywater will always be open for you” he squeezed Arthur’s hand, not hiding all his excitement. “And all your family too” he added, turning to Ashara, who gave a polite smile.

“You too” he turned to Eddard, “Come back as much as you like” and he meant it. And perhaps he hoped that their presence would be constant in Starfall. Someone sharing what he felt… it was too horrible of him to want them to stay?

The last thing he saw of them was Howland’s smile before the train left the station, and the people on the platform waved. Edric was too busy running around, and Allyria running after, trying to make sure he would get hurt or something. Ashara stood by his side and leaned on his shoulder.

“I am sure they will return,” she said, in a soft voice, like a prediction. “Do not be sad about it, Arthur” she tried, “It is terrible, but life moves on, and we ought to go along with it”

He trusted her enough to believe the words. He imagine, however, if he would manage to do so.

__________

Ashara suggested that they would go for a walk in the village, before returning home, and the children were pleased. Until Edric dropped ice cream in his clothes and Allyria, eager to help him to clean, ripped her dress. They were hurried off to the car by the nanny who was desperate, almost driving the car herself.

Arthur agreed that the situation was handled, so they didn’t had any reason to hurry home too. In fact, he wanted to walk around the village, and see the people he missed. Ms. Sand at the post, always with fresh gossip, or Mr. Manwoody at the barbershop, constantly scolding the women on the street. He missed the simple life he once had, walking around those streets and talking to people who seen him grow.

The manners of a gentleman came easily to him. The way to offer your arm to a lady, and open the car door for her, and politely nod every time someone crossed your path… he would think that after so long living in a warzone, closer to animals than humans, he would have a hard time remembering how to do all of those simple gestures. Yet, here he was, performing again his part flawlessly.

When it was time to go he started the car, and Ashara was quiet, in a thoughtful way. When the silence became too much to bear, he had to start the conversation. Except that the only thing that was in his mind (and he supposed it was on hers too) was the house in London. He promised her time, but his heart wanted to know more, and wanted to be sure that she wouldn’t be gone when he wake next morning.

“Will you leave?” he asked voice, his not much louder than a whisper. The road was dirty, but it was empty, except for them, and it was what he wanted. Just the two of them, and no one else to drop an ear.

“I do not know” she hesitated and looked up at him, so full of doubts and hesitations. He could imagine how hard had been for her while he was away, taking care of everything and still being criticized for it. Overall, she was the best person for the task, and would do a better job in weeks that he would ever do in years.

“You can take care of it” He was built for warfare and trouble, to quick decisions, life and death moments. He never knew what kind of plant would grow in each type of soil; he didn’t knew when harvest moon was or even how to milk a cow. He couldn’t run a property even if he tried. “ _Only_ you can take care of it” she was much more qualified for the job.

“It is your title,” she argued, weakly.

He scoffed, not trying to be arrogant, but sounding slightly depreciative. “It is your _right_ ” _it is that hard for her to understand?,_ “It was my title since the beginning, but I never wanted it” he explained. When their father died, Arthur was away with the army, and Allem took care of Starfall, unofficially. Just like Ashara had done. “ _You_ managed this estate for two years, and I barely can read those books, but the least I know is that we have not seen growth like this since last century.” He shook his head, disappointed. “Nothing would give me more joy than to give it all to you, let you be the heiress, their Lady, that Father never expected, and better than me _or_ Allem could have ever been” he offered his hand to her. “Please” In all of those years, Arthur had been officially Earl of Starfall, but never once acted up on that part. Never had to. And he didn’t wanted to.

“I’ll stay,” she agreed with a decisiveness that inspired him. The only thing troubling his mind was Ashara, and the pained expression in her face. It must had been a tough decision, to get rid of something she had planned for so long, to be stuck in a mansion in the middle of nowhere.

“Thank you.” He says, “I know it sounds selfish, but I am truly thinking for the both of us. I could never run Starfall on my own, and you clearly have. And if I know you at all, you enjoyed” a little smile in her lips made him sure. “I hope you don’t think I pressured you to do anything…”

“God, Arthur. You could not bully me into decisions even if you wanted to” she giggled, throwing her head back. A delicious sound to hear that pleased him greatly. “I decided to stay, because I agree with you. We have to stay together; otherwise we may not survive to see the next decade”

“Oh, I plan on seeing the mid-century, at the very least” he scoffed. “And I do not want you to get any ideas of daring to go before I do”, he added, jokingly threatening. 

“I am not going anywhere” she promised, and held his hand.


	3. A Glimpse of Happiness (ALLYRIA, 1921)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's finally of age and it's her moment to debut. Following the tradition, the Daynes come to the London Season, and Allyria plans a party to celebrate her big entrance to the society.

The train ride took forever. At least that’s how she felt.

She knew well the distance between Starfall and London, and traveled back and forth several times in her years. This time it was different. It felt different. It seemed longer. Everything looked more beautiful, more exciting. Ashara, sitting on the bench right in front of her, seemed as happy as she was, even though there was nothing for her to be that excited. Edric forgot completely about the book in his hands, too concentrated looking outside. Arthur however didn’t take the eyes from the newspaper right in front of him, as if there were the solutions to all of the world problems in those small letters.

She looked around, and saw the people on the train, looking bored and impatient, while she felt like there was a fire inside her, waiting to be out. It was _her_ time to shine, coming, finally.

They would be staying in Ashara’s house, ironically. It was well located and big enough to fit their entire crowd. She had already chosen her room (the one with the view to the backyard, where in the night the moonlight shone in the fountain and it made it look like something from fairytales), and personally chose the menu. She made her bags, side by side with her maid and Ashara, voting every single piece that went inside it, and made sure that her maid knew _every detail_ , because having a ruined dress would be very _very_ popular, in a way she dreaded.

She had packed several nightdresses, _just in case_ , especially for her party. There was not a chance she would look less than fabulous on her own night. The party would be held in a hotel, that she had picked five months before (and her uncle had to overbid, because there was already a reservation) when she went to London _specifically_ to that.

It was a tradition that every debutante held a party to honor her entrance to the society. It was polite to invite all of the young ladies debuting that year, but there had been a historic for polemical invitations, or lack of thereof. Allyria dreaded the possibility of having her social image ruined before she had time to build one.

Instead, she had advertised the party through everyone that came to Starfall in the previous four months or so. Lord or lady, young or old. If it was a family friend, she was already inviting to her celebration. She also sent personally written invitations to everyone that was _anyone_ , and her heart stopped every time she saw a reply card.

She couldn’t be more excited. Planning everything to its minimal details had been exhausting. The list properly invited, her clothing sorted, the food chosen. Now everything she had to do was relax and enjoy. (Even though that she was perfectly aware that it wasn’t going to happen, she decided to try anyway).

The train ride seemed to be endless, still.

“Has it always been this long?” she complained, to her sister, who quickly looked at her, as if pulled out from a dream. “Starfall is _that_ far from London? I don’t remember taking _so long_ the other times.”

Ashara giggled. “It is just that you are excited.” She explained, shaking her head softly and laughing gently.

“Are you sure we are going on the right direction? Because it _is_ taking too long!” she was worried. Perhaps they might have catch a train that went all the way to Scotland, because that would be a good explanation.

“We are on the right path” Arthur assured her, and she wasn’t aware that he was listening. “Stay calm, Allyria, we will make it to London just in time”

She had been extremely worried about it. The process was long, complicated and bureaucratic. When the letter came, signed by the King himself, she nearly fainted. _Ten AM_ , she had to be there. Considering how panicky she was about _missing_ the date, she would probably be there before eight. The preparation had started then. They had five months to prepare, and she got right into it. If thing went as planned, her first season would be a success.

Everything in London seemed more beautiful. The train station, was big and the white walls seemed to glow in the afternoon light. The people too were more beautiful, she thought. In their colored dresses and complicated hairdos, that made Starfall seem like a distant farm.

The ride from the train to the house was short, but to her, still seemed endless. She watched as the streets went by, with women with dangerously short dresses, and hair cut short. Later, she learned that how it was in Paris now, and even got used to the style. It was still two blocks away when she saw the familiar street and the familiar houses in the neighborhood. It was just a matter of time until their house rose up.

Surprisingly, the minute she got out of the car, she assumed the persona of the nearly-adult-woman, managing to hide the excited little girl in the car seconds ago. Ashara noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“The London Season is perhaps the most famous seasonal event in the world,” Ashara told as they walked inside the house. Allyria never got tired of its beauty. It was not palatial and big like Starfall. It was simpler, more contained, exactly what one would expect of a house in the city, and yet there was a luxury to it, in the way the polished marble on the floor shone, or the windows in carefully colored glass, or the painting hanging on the walls. Allyria loved every single thing about that place. “And you get to be a part of it.” Both of them giggled, excited with the idea.

Meanwhile, Arthur was already giving order to unpacking, saying that there was much to do. In order to help, he had been responsible for the food, and to give the correct instructions on what would be prepared for what. Even though she knew that her brother had commanded entire battalion, she still had doubts he would be able to perform his duties without any trouble. Of course it was silly of her, but she couldn’t avoid it.

 

They settled in faster than normal. Mostly because all eyes were on Allyria, and her thousands of different outfits. She had more cases than the rest of her family together, but no one dared to say that it was an exaggeration.

She managed to get everyone in the house running around, fixing this or that on her behalf, while she constantly reminded herself to not panic, and that it all would be fine. Gladly, Ashara had something of a sixth sense, and was the one to save her from her misery.

“We ought to go shopping” Ashara announced, and Arthur merely looked over from his newspaper. “I have nothing to wear in the weekend” it would be Allyria’s big night, and the buzz around it was known to be reaching all the way from Highgarden to Storm’s End

“I think we all have plenty clothing,” he argued, slowly lowering the paper. “We _did_ pack almost everything we _own._ It is hard to imagine that you cannot find _anything_ to wear”

“Nothing appropriate!” she exclaimed, smiling, “It _is_ my little sister’s big moment. I can’t be seen wearing rags”

He laughed softly, “You ought to let _her_ shine,” he told Ashara “ _She_ can’t wear rags. You should wear a maid’s apron, for all I know.”

“He does make a good point” Allyria nodded, smile growing on her face.

“Sorry, you _don’t_ want to go shopping?” Ashara whispered, slightly offended.

“Don’t be mean, Arthur” Allyria asked, in her sweet little voice, that she knew could conquer anyone. “Please?”

He laughed more.

* * *

They left the house running next morning, obviously, because Allyria was so sure that they would be late, that she woke up before the sun. Before eight they were all on their way to the palace. The ceremony wouldn’t start until ten, but she figured it would be better be early than late.

It had been years since Ashara got excited with the London Season, and even more years since her own Debut. She could clearly remember, her heart beating faster, dozens of girls, all excited and scared in equal measures. The brief moment before the king and queen, and a bow that seemed to change her from a girl to a woman.

Obviously, Ashara was her sponsor. While most of the girls around her had their mothers or even grandmothers fixing their dresses and hairdos, she had her sister, completely relaxed, not even remotely nervous. Their mother had died when she was little, and she barely remember her at all. In all of those years, if there was someone who was a motherly figure to her, had been her sister. To choose anyone but her it would not only be outrageous, but a sin.

“You never truly forget your first season” Ashara smiled to her, with kindness, when she saw how scared she was. “It is all about you, my darling, and I want you to take every second of it. And be happy.” She added, as an afterthought. “Neither of this” she pointed at their clothes, and the building around, with the tall and decorated ceilings, “matters if you are unhappy. This is all for you. This is the start of your new life. It is scary, I am aware, but face this with bravery, and you will see that you have never been happier before”

Allyria wanted to cry, because she never seen her sister be so honest and open to her. But there were too many people around, and she couldn’t do it. Besides, it was only moments until she faced the royalty, and no one wants to come before the Queen with red eyes from crying. She smiled, however, and held Ashara’s hands.

“Thank you” it was all that she could say without choking up.

As soon as the door opened, she felt like her heart might jump out of her chest and she would faint before managing to take a step.

“Go on, my dear” Ashara stopped right behind, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “And remember, don’t turn your back to his Majesty”

Allyria looked inside, the room filled with perhaps the most important people of their time. She could see the ceiling painted, the golden murals, the red curtains. However, the minute she crossed the door, her entire brain went blank, and she couldn’t even retell what happened, much less what she felt. The next second of conscience was when she was leaving the room, with dozens of girls in the same pale clothing, with the same haunted expressions as if they had been through hell and back, and enjoyed the ride immensely; she smiled, feeling more secure. It was the first time of her life that she actually felt part of something.

 

They left the Palace at midday, but of course there were thousands of traditions to follow, and a lot of _great_ ideas from her sister. Plus, a lot of photographs, and a lot of congratulating. Sure, it was tiring, but Allyria was _living_ for it. Every single person that crossed their path and made a stop to congratulate her made a little part of her brighter, more excited about life.

By the afternoon, she had her first appointment as a lady: tea at the Hightower’s. Hosted by a very excited Margaery Tyrell, who had managed to get her grandparents to let her use the solarium; they sat by the garden and tasted some of the finest and most beautifully crafted sweets. She considered that maybe staying there for the rest of her life wouldn’t be a bad prospect.

Margaery Tyrell moved with elegance and grace, and despite their regions having mild disagreements, she was still pleased with the invitation. The Tyrell’s Tea Party was one of the most expected events of the season. And anyone attending it was sure to make the headlines of the newspapers and getting their outfits analyzed by every specialist in London. Margaery was the great promise of their generation, and being around was not only amazing but it was the beginning of a career for Allyria.

That afternoon, Allyria was dazzled by everyone around her. Of course, there were girls whose names were on the tip of her tongue. Sansa Stark was one of them (not walking a mile away from Margaery, and managing to look stunning even in a simple grey dress). Myrcella Baratheon in a glorious red dress that made she look even more beautiful than her mother. She spent the entire afternoon inviting the girls to _her own_ party, at her grandmother’s, in two weeks. Arianne Martell too (Coming like a hurricane, she entered, kissed the girls, said how proud she was of them, even though that none of them actually met her, and before they could blink twice, she was gone again), she however took a minute longer to talk to Allyria. Doran and Arthur had been friends for years, and they had known each other as children.

“You’ve grown so much!” Arianne said, in that way that parents treat their children. In a surprised tone, followed by a proud look. “I cannot even believe that you are a lady now. I remember when we were children and I watched you playing with Trystane. And now…” she shook head, stunned. “And you look so very beautiful”

“It’s very kind of you to say” she smiled too. She had spent hours picking that dress, making sure she would look _perfect_ for the occasion.

Arianne blabbed a minute more about how much time had passed, and asked about Ashara and Arthur, and even remembered little Edric, who was not so little anymore.

“You ought to come to my wedding!” she said, cheery “Of course, I will send the invitations, but you must come to Sunspear to celebrate with us” she added. “It will be in the fall” _of course_ , she thought, _Martells doing things as they like_ , because it’s a tradition among people that all celebrations in the south should happen between spring and the end of the summer, because it’s the blessed era of the sun, “And Ashara and Arthur should come too. It might be a reunion of their old folks.”

She hadn’t heard anything about Arianne Martell and weddings, and she would remember that, because the woman was nearing her thirties, and was still unmarried, and, most of all, desired by all men of Dorne and possibly the country. There was a saying that no man managed to tame Arianne Martell, and if one could, he would die immediately.

“You are getting married?” she asked, partly shocked, partly curious.

“When time comes, yes.” she nodded, “But we though that having an _engagement_ party was the right way to announce it to the world. We would have it in the summer, but Sunspear gets incredibly hot, and there isn’t any mood for parties, really. So we are doing in this winter. January.” She added, smiling, resting on the arm of the chair, completely ignoring the other girl sitting by her side, focusing only on Allyria.

“I am sorry,” she apologized, trying to organized the sentence in her head, on how to not sound _too_ curious, or not _too_ disinterested. “Who are you marrying?”

“Viserys” she said, simply. “ _Prince_ Viserys, I mean,” she added, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Highgarden is open for you,” Margaery offered, and Allyria was just surprised that she was listening. “Spring weddings at the manor are particularly beautiful”

“I appreciate the invitation” Arianne said, holding a hand to her chest, genuinely touched by the act.

Then Alla started reading a poem she composed herself, and all the attention turned to her. By the time she finished and received a standing ovation from all the ladies, they realized that Arianne had slipped away.

The tea ended before the sunset, and Margaery assured her that Sansa and herself would be on the party.

* * *

The British theatre was a sight to behold.

The night was cold, as the winter had just begun, and it was the perfect opportunity to use the big fur coats she had. Ashara was glad to take her, and Arthur thought it was polite to join them. He did enjoy theatre immensely, and jumped at any opportunity of visiting one.

Allyria had no idea of what they were seeing that night, but it wasn’t like she _cared_. Going to the theatre was a social event, important as any party. It was a _vital_ part of being a part of the Season, and she had patiently waited for that moment since she arrived in London. She put on a dark green dress, and kept most of the night giggling, just touching the soft gloves she had received as a gift from cousin Gerold.

Several heads turned around to see her go by, and she never felt more desirable or fulfilled like that. The lights of the theatre were bright, yellow, electrical. Like a lighthouse guiding them to a new era.

 “You should go ahead” Arthur said, as soon as they entered the lobby. “I have something quick to settle”

(And this was unknown to her, but Arthur had his own personal reasons to going to the theatre that night. Allyria was so excited about the whole experience that she only realized Arthur wasn’t seating in their box after intermission.)

She shook several hands, and promised to make several appearances. She did not know what the play was about, or who was in it. In fact, probably no one at the theatre knew it. However, she could remember every guest and their dressings.

And the night was not supposed to end after that. In fact, she and Ashara had reservations to a _restaurant._ For dinner! She could not believe it! Going to dinner with her family in a _restaurant._ Before, she had to be inside the house for most of the Season, reading and playing music. And now she could be out on the street until late hours, and could take a _cab_ back home. She never imagined so much pleasure from little things.

As soon as they made it to the restaurant, she looked around, to see if any familiar faces were around, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Lord Beric Dondarrion. Their table was not far from them, and he saw her the minute she sat at her table. She could tell that for the rest of the evening he kept looking at her, and every time she looked at him, he’d look away.

He was dining with a few other men she didn’t knew, but she supposed they were friends, because their talk was surrounded by constant laughter.

By the time they were on their second dish, she saw Lord Beric coming from the distance. And tried to be calm. She failed.

Arthur too saw him coming, and stood up and offered a hand to him.

“What a pleasure to see you again” Lord Beric said. The words were directed to Arthur, but his eyes were fixed on Allyria.

They had met on the first time at Arthur’s celebration for the medal. Back then she had been a much skinnier and smaller figure, and standing beside him was scaring. But now, she as tall as him (in heels, a little taller) and she looked so much more mature. She wanted him to notice her (and he already had) and he wanted him to talk to her, or say how beautiful she looked.

It didn’t matter that they had seen each other months ago, it didn’t matter that they exchanged letters for over a year, it didn’t matter that he had asked her to be his date at the polo match. When he was standing right in front of her, all of that seemed to be long past gone. It all came down to the both of them staring at each other. A smile grew on his face as his eyes met hers, and her heart, (perhaps for the first time in that day) softened.

“We are very glad to see you as well” Arthur said, even though Lord Beric probably wasn’t listening.

For a moment no one said anything and Allyria though it was her time to do so, because Beric’s eyes were glued to hers.

“I hope you do come to my party” she said, smiling.

“I surely will” he promised, smiling as well.

* * *

It was 6PM and she was already running around

She was finishing getting dressed before going to the hotel, because she wouldn’t be the first to arrive at her own party. She had been trying to get her make up to look right for the last half hour, and Ashara had already exhausted all of her tricks and tips, but nothing was _perfect_ enough to match Allyria’s imagination.

She was nervous because she had sent tons of invitations, and most of them had replied with confirmations. Her party was bound to be a success. Except if something went wrong. How could she live in the society if anything bad happened at that party?

She tried to calm herself, but wasn’t easy. She sat on the couch, but the tapping feet was driving Ashara, who was trying to compose a letter, crazy, so she kicked her out of there. Being in the library with Arthur and Edric wasn’t any help either, because they were too calm, and she couldn’t understand how they did it.

By 6:30 she was driving Arthur crazy that he agreed that it was finally time to leave, and not only because it was getting late, but because he worried about her sanity.

The ride to the hotel was short, and Allyria was in a state of shock that she didn’t say a word. Instead, she looked out of the window and watched as the people walked through London, completely unaware that this was possibly the most important night of her life.

As soon as she got to the hotel, Arthur hopped outside of the car and offered an arm to her. She looked up and watched a couple of northern girls walking in, and made an effort to remember their names, so she wouldn’t look like a fool not knowing her guest’s names.

The yellow light lit the hotel lobby, and the concierge completely ignored that a party was happening in the salon right behind him. Perhaps he was so used to them that they all blended in, impossible to say who was there last night or tomorrow. While Arthur walked by her side, Ashara followed her, holding the hand of Edric, almost as tall as her, in an impeccable tuxedo, chosen specifically for that night. Obviously, she didn’t _want_ him there, because he was too young for it after all, but Ashara convinced her that it wasn’t fair for him to not be a part of it.

As soon as she walked in, all of the eyes turned around to watch her.

She could stand there forever, just gazing at the people who were there _for her_ , because they had chosen to be there with her. Just the idea that people _wanted_ to be around her was enough to amaze Allyria.

Wylla Manderly and her polemical green hair took her of her trance.

Not even five minutes passed before she was in the middle of a group of northern girls, all exchanging hugs and kisses, and ever faster until she was dragged to dance. The jazz sound filled the room, and the girls around her all giggled, excited. For the first time in that night, she relaxed.

 

“I am sorry, Allyria” she looked at Edric, holding her arm. “I was sent for you, because someone _needs_ you” he highlighted the word, as if the instructions had been clear.

She excused herself from the group of girls and walked to a table, where Arthur Dayne was seating right beside Beric Dondarrion.

“My lady” he stood up and stopped right in front of her, and kissed her hand, slowly, gently. “as beautiful as a star”

“Lord Dondarion” she greeted, nodding. “It’s a pleasure to have you here”

Allyria tried to contain herself, but the idea of Beric Dondarrion coming to celebrate her was enough to warm her heart. Sure, he had proved to be a gentleman on every occasion they met, and on the letters they secretly traded.

She wondered if she would manage to be as brave as him, and invite him to a waltz.

She picked the band herself, so the jazz sound filled all the room, and before she could even suggest, people were already dancing. She was pleased to see that everything was going even better than the planned.

“Is that Arianne Martell?” she felt a nudge on her shoulder, and was pulled away, without a chance to say goodbye to Lord Beric, and turned to where Wylla was pointing, and saw Arianne coming in, with a dashing Prince Viserys in her arm. Every single pair of eye on the room turned to watch as they made their way to Allyria, who was already shaking from head to toe, for a moment ignoring Lord Beric.

They made their way up to her, while the dancing stopped and every single person was curious to see what was going to happen. “Wonderful party” Arianne smiled, gently. “And please, meet my fiancé, Prince Viserys”

“Your Highness” she bowed respectfully “It is an honor” It is not every day that you meet someone from the royalty.

“It is an honor to me!” he smiled “Arianne as spent the whole day saying of how darling you were at Margaery’s tea, and we couldn’t miss your party. I’ve heard a lot about you already”

Allyria couldn’t believe that it was actually happening, and not some kind of dream inside her head. “I do hope I can entertain both of you”

“I am easily entertained” Viserys assured “But please, go on. It’s your night, enjoy your party”

With that, he took Arianne’s arm and threw her around, in a complicated dance move, while everyone watched. Soon, people tried to follow, and quickly everyone around was dancing again.

 

“I don’t suppose you would like to dance?” he asked, from behind her, but she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the smell of his hair, or something else utterly unexplainable, but she smiled, feeling lighter as she nodded.

Beric moved to her side, offering a hand.

The thing about the modern jazz is that didn’t had any of the _intimacy_ of the waltz. As much as she loved the jovial tunes, she longed for Beric’s hand around her hip, leading her around the room, twisting and turning elegantly. Still, she wasn’t going to complain.

As the song faded she smiled at him and help up a hand, asking for him to wait a moment. She ran to the band and asked for a waltz this time. Coincidentally, it was also what Arthur Dayne was asking. Considering it the ideal moment, he asked her a dance, and there was no way she could refuse it. While she and Arthur took center of the room, Lord Beric stood by the door, looking sorry. Allyria tried to tell him she didn’t plan on it, and that she wanted to waltz with _him,_ but she couldn’t.

Besides, waltz was already hard enough, and she wasn’t concentrated, so poor Arthur’s feet were punished. She decided to focus on the dance after all. Before it, she saw Beric pointing at the door and mouthing something that she couldn’t understand, because Arthur picked her up for a turn at the same moment. When she looked around to see him again, he was already gone.

She prayed that he hadn’t left, not before they had a chance to talk or dance. She would hate herself if he did. But she couldn’t leave Arthur dancing on his own, so during another six minutes she turned around, but her head asking the same question: is he gone?

As soon as the song ended she ran towards the lobby, hoping that he meant that they should meet there, instead of a simple note that he was already leaving to home.

She saw his silhouette outside, smoking a cigarette and was pleasantly surprised to see him waiting for her.

“I thought you might have left” she said, breathing heavily, closing the door before her.

“I could never leave without so much of a good night from you” he smiled, kindly. “I was watching the sky, before. I mean, while you were dancing. And it is fascinating, isn’t it?

The sky was dark and the wind was cold around them. The street was for colder, and looked more dangerous than expected. It was his idea, after all.

“The night is dominated by stars.” he said, looking up at the sky, dreaming. She never saw him more beautiful. “The moon, their faithful commander, can be outshined by a burning star as easily as one would be dazzled by a lady’s smile” she though she saw a polite red taking over his cheeks, but it was hard to be sure under the moonlight, and the redness of his hair and beard. “We call the moon the ruler of the night sky, but in reality, she is no more than a street lamp. The stars are far more interesting” he threw his cigarette away and blew smoke up.

She blushed, and was speechless, because how in the world could she make any commentary that would do him justice?

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, turning to her, hands deep on the pockets of his coat.

“Immensely!” she smiled, throwing her hands up. “I never thought it could be this fun”

“I am very happy for you” he smiled too. “To see you have grown into a beautiful and intelligent young woman,” he offered a hand, that she took eagerly. “And I certainly hope you have a wonderful season.” He kissed the back of her hand. “As beautiful as you, and as bright as you deserve”

“Will I see you again?” she asked, suddenly afraid that he would be gone for the rest of the winter. She had managed to live months just on letter from him, but now that his presence was real again, she couldn’t let him go.

“Of course” he smiled. “You received my invitation, I am sure?”

“Yes” she smiled, remembering getting his letter, and passionately blabbing about his handwriting to her maid. Still, she had been so excited that it took her a full week to read _the whole_ letter.

She wanted to say more, some kind of poetical line, but everything in her head sounded dumb, and she decided to ignore it all. Everything she managed to do was nod furiously (and get flustered) while he smiled.

 

She came inside still giggly and filled with incoherent thoughts. If Ashara knew that she was alone with Lord Dondarrion outside, she would be dead before the morning came, so it was her goal to make it seem like nothing had happened, and that she had not been gone any minute.

She tiptoed inside, looking around trying to run away from her sister, making sure to go to the opposite direction in case there was any hint of Ashara. She did see Arthur having a lively talk to Elia Martell and wondered if he too would want to behead her if he knew. She doubted.

She made safely inside and no sign of Ashara any place. Instead, she saw Sansa Stark in the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It made her look like she was dressed in rags. While she watched, stunned, Sansa dancing, she was surprisingly catch by Ashara, who looked slightly homicidal.

“Where were you?” she heard Ashara asking, in a hushed tone, “I certainly hope you weren’t _hiding_ away with anyone” the question was more like a threat than anything else.

Her weakness was the inability to lie under pressure, and Ashara knew it.  “I wasn’t” she defended herself, as she tried to think anything else to say. There were millions of possibilities of things that she could be doing, but at the moment, her mind was blank, except for the image of Ashara’s angry eyes, already imprinted in her brain.

“There you are!” Margaery appeared, smiling, “Sansa was looking all around, because she has a friend that wants to meet you” Allyria didn’t even react until Margaery grabbed her by the arm. “Oh heavens I am very sorry. Am I interrupting something?” she asked, with a hand on her chest, although being very aware that she was interrupting something. “We have been searching for Allyria for the last ten minutes”

“So have I” Ashara agreed, nodding slowly.

“I was in the bathroom” she managed to lie, really quickly, really sharply, as if the words were rushing out of her mouth.

“Yes, we have been dancing for a while and I went to get something to drink and Allyria vanished.” Margaery affirmed, “Is that a problem?” there was a hint of real concern on her voice.

“No, not at all,” Ashara smiled, but on her eyes it was clear that she wasn’t fooled by this lie.

Margaery smiled again, and both of them turned around and headed towards Sansa. “Thank you,” Allyria said, sighing of relief, “But how would you knew I was in trouble?”

“We girls just sense such of things” Margaery smiled.

She didn’t completely explain to Margaery _why_ she needed help, and she didn’t ask it either. She liked this loyalty.

One minute later she was already dancing with Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell. Considering it was rather late, most of the girls came around to congratulate her on the beautiful party and reassure that they wanted her to come to theirs.

By the time she was leaving was almost hard that the stress was _finally_ over, and it had been all a success.

That night, Allyria fell asleep and dreamt of Beric’s hands caressing her neck

* * *

Breakfast was rushed. She sat at the table, sitting right across Arthur, too busy reading the news, and Ashara who was still kind of dizzy from the party the night before. Actually, Allyria could swear that her sister seemed a bit too happy last night, even though the reasons were unclear.

Still, she couldn’t _wait_ for it to be over soon. It was the train ride all over again. The hours passed too slowly, because this time on the other side it was Lord Beric waiting for her. To take her to a polo game.

Allyria’s abilities to play games were limited to cards and chess. She had a mild understanding of rugby, even though she wasn’t interested in it, and was constantly watching Edric’s sword fighting, and was more impressed than excited about it. But polo was a part of the season and she _had_ to be a part of it too.

When Beric invited her, it seemed only natural she would accept.

Even Arthur _kind of_ agreed with it. (He mumbled something about _it’s better being someone we know_ ). That same night Allyria told Ashara about the letters she had been trading with Lord Dondarrion ever since they met in Starfall, and her sister was surprised she managed to keep it a secret for so long. But Ashara didn’t judge, because she too was young once. And in love more than once.

Instead, she helped Allyria to pick her best outfit to suit the occasion.

“I suppose you will wear a dress” Ashara started, opening the wardrobe.

“But not a long one” Allyria said, from the mirror where she carefully combed her hair. “It’s too warm outside”

“Right” Ashara nodded, and smiled. “Obviously.”

They agreed on a light white dress. Allyria still spent too much time trying different styles on her hair, and most of them led to Ashara holding her and saying _it is all going to be okay, you look beautiful in that too_

By the time she agreed it was ready, she was already ten minutes late. She looked out of the window and saw a taxi waiting outside. He had just got there and she ran to the window as soon as she heard a car stopping. He came out and leaned on the car, all dressed in white, like an angel. The red hair only made him look brighter beneath the sunlight

They were a perfect match. 

“You look stunning” Ashara admired her, mouth hanging open, from behind, making Allyria jump and turn around.

“Thank you” she said, stepping away, but still looking out. “But I doubt it”

“Lord Beric is here” they heard Arthur shouting from the first floor, and Allyria ran away from the window, waiting to see if he would come up. Moments later the door was gently pushed open and he stuck his head in. “He is waiting for you” Arthur said, now getting inside. “You look beautiful.”

“I told her that” Ashara agreed, nodding, “But she seems to be caught on something ridiculous and can’t take my compliment”

Allyria felt her cheeks blushing and decided that couldn’t reply without sounding like a fool.

Instead, she put on her hat, took a last moment looking in the mirror, and ran past them, downstairs. Ashara and Arthur followed her, both of them in silence, watching as an excited Allyria ran and opened the door, letting the sunlight bathe the room.

“Have fun” Arthur said, before she closed the door. “I swear I could hear she saying _thank you_ ” he said, sitting down on the couch. “She did not ignore me, did she?” he asked, partly concerned.

“She probably did” Ashara laughed and sat down too. “But we were young once too, and we too ignored elders and their _old ways_ ”

“God, when did _we_ become the elders?” he laughed.

They heard the car driving off, and none of then moved for a while, just letting the silence set between them.

“I guess you decided not to tell her about the wedding?”

“Oh no. It’s still her time to shine.” He shrugged. “I would not dare to take any of it from her”

Ashara agreed, nodding again. This was all about her sister, and both of them had vowed to protect her for so long that she couldn’t be relaxed knowing that Allyria was growing up to be a woman. She still wanted her little sister.

 

“I hope we don’t take too long to get there” she said, smiling, sitting as close to him as it would be acceptable. “I took way too long to get ready, I apologize”

“You could take three entire hours of my day and I would thank you for it” he smiled.

Their hands on the bench of the taxi were close, and getting closer. Until he, bravely, took her fingers, gently, and intertwined them. She felt her heart jump on her throat, and she felt her entire body shake and freeze at the same time. She smiled, and he smiled too. Peacefully, they made the rest of their journey.

She felt, among of all other things, hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Loosely_ based on the actual London Season. But it's more of a "busy schedule" than a "casual events" kind of deal.


End file.
